Covert Affair
by define-serenity
Summary: [Seblaine/Blaine] Sebastian monitors Blaine while he's undercover, and he doesn't like it one bit. ONESHOT. COMPLETE.


**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's notes:** written for **andercriss**, prompt: **spies!Seblaine**.

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**Covert Affair;;**

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The door beads chime but barely manage to ease his mind; his constant vigilance has put him on edge, there's a kink in his neck from too many nights spent on the sofa crammed in a corner of the room, and his skin buzzes with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding.

"Did you get it?" he asks without looking up; he couldn't stand to see his partner battered and bruised, even though Hunter Clarington has gotten quite equipped at leaving bruises where no one can see them.

Blaine tosses the flash drive on the desk, where it lands between two boxes of Chinese food that's gone stale, opting out of sitting down, and he tries to stop his mind from thinking it, how it might be too painful for Blaine to sit because Clarington likes it rough, but it's there, every single time. It's not like he hasn't listened in on all their private sessions, heard every whimper and moan, every time Blaine begged for more, every filthy endearment that rolled off Hunter's silk tongue–

He's not allowed to complain anymore, he did that plenty before the op even started, told his bosses Blaine needed more back up than already provided or it should be him going in. But Hunter Clarington had a taste for more docile bed partners, and Blaine could act that part like a consummate professional. So for the past two months Blaine spent every day at the club owned by Clarington, and his nights in his bed, hoping to get a beat on his suppliers while he's stuck in some backroom of a Chinese restaurant so Blaine doesn't blow his cover.

It took the Company countless of man-hours to set up the operation. Rachel and Quinn had both gone undercover within Hunter's organization so they could provide cover should anything go wrong, before Blaine went deep cover as one of Hunter's employees. The whole thing almost had a certain grace to it, all the parts working in tandem to form an intricate net of surveillance, counter-surveillance, back stories and cover... he just wishes that the operative wasn't his– well, whatever Blaine is to him.

Their bosses don't know, they can't know, physical relationships between partners came with strict warning labels and he'd known of a few teams broken up because the higher-ups found out. Given the nature of their job it's a miracle he and Blaine haven't been found out yet, but they are the best at what they do, one of the strongest teams currently in the field, so maybe their bosses had decided to turn a blind eye.

Unfortunately he couldn't do the same, the thought of that asshole of a Clarington's hands all over Blaine spun circles through his head every second of the day, even though he knew Blaine could stand his own against a man twice Hunter's size and everything that happened between him and Hunter was an act.

Still, once again his eyes are drawn to the quiet figure standing next to him, waiting for him to download the information from the flash drive–Blaine meets his eye and his gaze doesn't waver, but he's wearing a turtleneck sweater, and he knows all too well what that means. He stands up while the computer downloads the data, and reaches out to pull aside the collar that undoubtedly covers up a fresh set of bruises.

Blaine grabs his wrist. "Don't."

"I don't like these kind of gigs," he says, while his jaw clenches with an anger that continues to burrow deeper. As a trained agent he should be able to keep his cool better, and he's come to understand why the Company expects partners to keep things professional, but every one of these visits reaffirms why they need to take Clarington down.

"It's just bodies, Sebastian," Blaine says, and ventures a step closer, his hands sliding up his torso like he has to remind himself he's all there, completely. "He only gets my body."

He places his hands over Blaine's, reminded that his body was all he got in the beginning as well–Blaine started out disliking him intensely, his propensity to break the rules did not endear him to Blaine nor did his constant flirting, but somewhere between saving his life at least twice and a handful of successful missions where they were forced to improvise, Blaine had warmed up to him. All he got was Blaine's body, at first, until they both realized it had turned into something more when they weren't looking.

"Hey," Blaine says softly, drawing his body closer, "he doesn't know me."

"You should get back," he responds stubbornly, reluctant to give Blaine the satisfaction of seeing the cracks in his armor. But Blaine had this knack for catching him unawares, to play him like their targets, except somewhere along the way Blaine had decided to be the real deal around him, no secret identities, no escape plans, no lies.

Which makes these kinds of operations all the more difficult.

"Hey," Blaine beckons again, caressing his nose against his, arms reaching up around his neck and suddenly he can't take it anymore, feels the distance between them harder than ever before so he negates it altogether, pushing his lips to Blaine's as gentle as he can muster, because he refuses to hurt Blaine even more.

Blaine's fingers curl into his hair as his tongue pushes past his teeth, begging for a moment of peace, a moment that's real and any pretense falls away. They pretend there are no lies between them, however fleeting, because the biggest lie of all has always been the idea that they can actually be something while working in this crazy business.

"We can't keep doing this," he whispers to Blaine's lips, a truth they usually leave unspoken, but the crazy back and forth between practiced lies and a relationship they desperately cling to will prove their undoing one day. It's only a matter of time before they're found out.

"I know," Blaine says, stealing one last kiss. "We'll talk about it when this is over."

But he knows what later means, _after this mission_, _after the next_, they'll postpone time and again to avoid that conversation in favor of stealing moments. And who's he really kidding, he doesn't want anything to change.

"Be safe."

Blaine nods, though there's little humor in his expression. "Always."

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